


#nsfh

by thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Multi, Pillow & Blanket Forts, sometimes you just gotta curate your beloved husband's content experience a little more carefully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 23:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: Feferi and Sollux have developed a distinct set of tags to use for their dearest husband, the King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead, and all around over-emotional sadsack.#nsfh #notsafeforhades #hadesdonotinteract





	#nsfh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liasangria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liasangria/gifts).



> erifefsol free-for-all.
> 
> this is like the free space on a bingo card. gimme some of that good good ot3*
> 
> *no really hard kinks like scat or watersports tho ok?

Mortals tended to have their own opinions and images of the gods who walked the earth alongside them. In older times, Eridan had found that the people they met were more...accepting. Discerning. Understanding. Had different interpretations of what could be considered right, what could be considered wrong, and all of the shades and hues of intentions in between the two.

Now? Humans had become  _much_  less discerning, and  _much_  more focused on drama than they'd ever been. It was almost disheartening.

It was one of the reasons that he, unlike his two partners, mostly stayed off social media. Media was bad enough as it is, whoever had the supposedly "clever" idea to make it social ought to be, in his opinion, drawn, quartered, and hung. An uninventive punishment for an uninventive human.

It was for that reason (but not that reason alone) that he was  _not_  the first one to spot the renaissance of their story.

 

Some details always fell between the cracks, whenever a story was retold as often as theirs. Hermes, for instance, who preferred to go by "Sollux" these days, was not commonly around in their tale. In full fairness to the mortals, Eridan mused, he'd come along a bit later. Missed out on some of those grand poems and glorious tales—not that he seemed to mind. He'd gotten into enough trouble on his own as it was.

Feferi, though. The love of his life, the bloom of the earth—she was there, in every story, regardless of how it was told.

Admittedly. Some of the tellings made him feel...awful, and small. To the point that he'd been banned from reading any of them until Feferi and Sollux had a chance to check them over first. True, he'd put up a fuss, but really, he'd been rather grateful, and those exasperating little shits had known it too.

That was yet another reason that he was not the first one to notice when people began exploring alternative versions and visions and retellings of the tale, all the while getting closer and closer to the truth.

 

* * *

 

On the day of their discovery, Eridan was sprawled out on a luxurious couch, that was usually nearly covered in pillows and throws by his beloved (and exasperating) wife and boyfriend. Today, it was bare enough for lounging, owing to the fact that his two dearest loves, the lights of his life (and terrors of his afternoons, mornings, and sometimes early evenings as well) had decided to build a pillow fort, for all three of them.

It took up almost half the room, and somehow, while he'd been asleep, they'd managed to enclose his section of the couch in a little privacy tent without even waking him. He scowled up at the sheer, sky blue material above his head. "Fef? Sol! The two a you have a lot to answer for, where the  _hell_  did you go—"

There's laughter, from somewhere else in the massive structure, and he groans, rolling off the couch and looking for a door. Millennia of time and access to a whole underworld full of brilliant architects had given them the opportunity to become master builders of almost anything on their little minds—up to and including fucking  _pillow forts_.

They've left him a cloth drapery for an exit, and he lifts it up carefully, to reveal a well-constructed pillow tunnel. With a sigh, the King of the Underworld, God of Death and Wealth, gets down on his hands and knees, and crawls through.

"I'm goin' to fuckin' murder the both a them," he mutters under his breath, when he pokes his head out into the next room. They've obviously made this one up to be something of a dining room, judging by the snacks available, the various ottoman-based tables and pillow seats.

At first, he doesn't notice that some of the snacks are his favorites. He's usually hungry after a nap anyway, and the grapes  from their own vineyards, and cheese from a local farmer's market, absolutely hit the spot. When he spots the  _marida_ and  _ravani_ , he sighs, in mixed parts exasperation and pleasure. Of course. It's another one of their fucking scavenger hunts.

After he finishes his food and downs a glass of water, he finds a note pinned to the door he'd just come through.

_Morning, sweetheart! Or afternoon. We have something wonderful to tell you, if you can find us before dinner!_

_\- F. P. & S. H._

They'd drawn little doodles on the note, and he hides a smile as he reads it over again, before carefully folding the paper up and tucking it into his shirt pocket. With luck, they'll have decided not to be  _too_  cunning, and made it easier for him to find them.

 

Three dead ends, two wrong turns, and a  _very_  bad prank later, he's fairly certain that they have not, in fact, decided to make it easy for him, and that he is, in fact, going to have to kill them. "It'll give me something to talk about at the next fuckin' family reunion, at least," he mutters grimly, ducking under hanging cloth and wispy shawls, repurposed as some kind of "meditation room". "'Oh, Hades, so good to see you, what have you been up to recently?' 'Oh, nothin' much, just murderin' my beloveds an' hidin' their bodies, you know how it is—'"

"Wow," someone interjects, from behind layers of filmy material, "sounds grim."

He knows that voice. Eridan  _charges_  towards the sound of Sollux Captor, formerly known as Hermes, the Messenger of the Gods.

Sollux goes over with an undignified yelp, landing squarely on the pillows that someone—Feferi, probably—had placed there, likely for just such a reason. "I have  _had_  it with the two a you an' your fuckin' funhouse a horrors! An' blankets!"

HIs boyfriend looks him over, before giving a sage nod. "Ran into FF's confetti drop, did you?"

Eridan bares his teeth at Sollux in a snarl, and Sollux raises his hands, as innocently as he can manage.

Before Eridan has the chance to inflict any further bodily harm upon his dear partner, soft arms slip around him, and Feferi Peixes, Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, presses a kiss to his cheek. "Hi, Dan."

Immediately, the hand twisted into the front of Sollux's shirt—oops, is that Eridan's hand? He definitely did  _not_ mean to nearly murder Sollux—goes slack, and he turns to look up at his wife, the same love and adoration shining in his eyes as had been there for thousands of years. "Fef. Hey."

"Oh  _come on_. Half of that shit was  _her_  idea, and  _she's_  the one who gets the dewy-eyed look? That's not even a  _little_  fair."

Eridan's hand gently comes up to pat Sollux's face—somehow landing right over his mouth. Wonder how that could have occurred.

Feferi giggles, at the two of them, and leans in to give Eridan a soft kiss, before reaching  _around_  him to tug their poor boyfriend up to sitting. "He's not wrong, Eridan, he was in favor of a straightforward trail!"

"Right then, guess you're gettin' dunked in the pool, an' he's gettin' the good seat on the couch."

"See? That's more like it."

 

Feferi laughs again, and drops down next to them, beaming. Something about her fairly glows, as she radiates happiness outwards, and Eridan's left again to wonder at her presence in his life. "You were taking too long to wake up, and I needed something to keep myself occupied!"

Eridan huffs, love and adoration turned—once again—into annoyance. It doesn't stop him from reaching out for Feferi, hauling her into his lap, and nuzzling over her hair. "Oh, sure. Ignore the fact that you could've just woken me up if it was so damn important, aye?"

"To be fair to FF, it's of a different category than the type of 'important' that we wake you up for."

Feferi nods solemnly, and Eridan  _sulks_. "I'm not  _that_  bad."

"Yeah, you are," Feferi says, and pats him on the cheek. "Sollux, have you got—"

He pulls her laptop out of seemingly nowhere, and Feferi beams at him. "Give us a sec to set it up, okay?"

Eridan nods and lets her up. The two of them crowd around her laptop, murmuring commentary and tapping keys, as he waits, with slowly growing impatience.

"This one. Definitely this one." Feferi peeks up at him, and gives him a sweet smile that resets his internal timer to zero, every damn time she does it. Little shit.

Before he can fuss any further, though, they pile in on either side of him and set her laptop up in his lap.

 

At first, it doesn't dawn on him what he's seeing. They've found another set of Hades and Persephone stories, sure—that much is apparent. He's a little surprised that they've gotten ahold of so many all at once, or held off on showing them to him for so long—even more surprised that they've deemed  _this_  many acceptable.

Then he notices something else: This isn't a carefully curated section of mythology they've hand-selected for him to see.

This is pages after pages, comic after comic, drawing after drawing, book summary after book summary, of them, the two of them, with even his Hermes making an appearance from time to time.

Someone has— _many_  someones have—written them, and.

They're all love stories.

 

Eridan doesn't realize when he started crying; he only notices it when salt water threatens to ruin the keys. Sollux's arm is warm around his shoulders, Feferi's around his waist, and he looks between the two of them, without even a word to say. They smile at him, both of them, not teasing, not tormenting—loving. Caring.

He swallows hard, and tries again.

"Is—is this a thing, now? Is—do people believe this?"

"Yeah. It's gotten really popular, actually. A lot of people are writing stories like this, drawing art of us—"

Before Feferi can finish, Eridan is kissing her, both hands cupping her face. Sollux rescues the laptop with a startled yelp, and sets it delicately aside, but before he can berate Eridan for nearly destroying it, Eridan's kissing  _him_ , a hand tangled into his hair and one still cupping Feferi's cheek.

 

* * *

 

They don't take the pillow fort down for a week, during which nothing much happens.

Spots One through Three get their walkies, food is made and eaten, and pages upon pages of content are pored over—and between all of that, the three of them return to each other, over and over again.

It's just a good a story as any of the ones everyone has somehow, suddenly, decided to tell.

And Eridan, sometimes known as Hades, sometimes called the God of the Underworld, the Lord of Death, the Richest God in the World, starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't so much mind social media after all.


End file.
